“No, don’t leave,” Kincaid said. “You’ll stay and help us, too.”
Davy frowned. “I’ll stay.”
He’d heard theor elsein Kincaid’s tone. Honestly, these men could be brutes also.
Perry touched Davy’s shoulder. “If you must leave Clampton, we’ll find you work, and no matter what happens, we’ll look after Pip.”
Davy nodded, and followed the MacEwens out.
“The man’s been wallowing in drink for ten years to cover that shame,” Kincaid said. “Had enough of it he has. We can use him. Now, I’ve no more dignity left here—can one of your ladyships fetch one of the Earl’s shirts from that satchel?”
“You’re not getting up yet.” Lady Jane pressed him back. “You’ll lie there a bit longer and let that flesh knit.”
“She’s right,” Farnsworth said.
While Kincaid glowered and the others bickered, Fox settled an arm around her, and she curled into his warmth.
“You should sit,” he said.
She shook her head. “No.” While Father was suffering, she’d take no comfort.
How would Sir Richard torture him? A man that cruel might have many means.
“We need to plan how to get Father out.”
“We need to know where he is.” Lady Jane plopped on the narrow bed, abandoning all etiquette. “One of your men should have reported by now.”
“Aye,” Kincaid said. “It’s possible they can’t get away themselves.”
Lady Jane’s mouth firmed. “Or it’s possible they’ve been taken, or killed.”
Through this east-facing window, Perry could see the sun on the horizon.
She sighed into Fox’s shoulder. “A new day. A totally different day.” She lifted her chin and searched his eyes. “We have an invitation to dinner.”
Sir Richard had invited them to dinner even while plotting to take her father. Or maybe, he’d planned to take Father at the dinner and instead had availed himself of the earlier opportunity.
The silence in the room fairly buzzed, though no one uttered a word, and her attention was on Fox, so she couldn’t see whether brows were working into furrows as the two old spies and Lady Jane turned the idea around in their collective heads.
Fox was doing his own brow furrowing. “No,” he said. “And anyway, the invitation was for you, Lady Jane, and your father.”
“And Father is already there.”
“Maybe not. Maybe he has him stashed in some smuggler’s tunnel somewhere. We need to hear what Scruggs has to say.”
“And how will you get him to talk?”
His mouth firmed. “We’ll charge him with murder. Davy saw a big man do the deed. It could have been him.”
“We’re wasting time.” She turned in his arms. “Farnsworth, you and Kincaid. if you’re able, will come along tonight.”
“I’ll be able,” Kincaid said.
“And Fox, you’ll come as my fiancé.” Her nerves rattled and she took in a breath. She could do this. Shewoulddo this. “That should draw a reaction.”
“Sir Richard saw me at the cove,” Fox said. “And you want me to just come along to dinner?”
Outside, the first ray of sun stabbed through the haze. Dinner—even a dinner by country hours—would be hours and hours away. Between now and then, anything could happen to Father. Bad, cruel, horrible things.
“On second thought, we’re not going to dinner,” she said. “We’ll join Sir Richard for breakfast.”
“No.” The cry came from all the men, but the loudest voice was the one in her ear.
